


The First Christmas

by MidnightValkyrie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Gifts, Romance, dramione - Freeform, marriage law
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:16:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28498170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightValkyrie/pseuds/MidnightValkyrie
Summary: Draco Malfoy discovers that the key to his future lies in the far past of the most unlikely person.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 7
Kudos: 141





	The First Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abrilas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abrilas/gifts).



> Written for lovely Abrilas. Happy Holidays Darling! Beta'ed by the fabulous NuclearNik. <3

Draco Malfoy sat at a table in the basement of his new London townhouse hunched over a sturdy wooden box, staring intently as he perfectly wrapped the large gift. Time, as it had a tendency to do, was running out on him and yet again, he was crossing the finish line just in the nick of time. He propped his head in one hand and sighed as he took the measure of his life.

Six months had passed since he’d married Granger. Since then he’d been sleeping in the guest room on the third floor. It’d been an opportunity to attempt starting their new life as peacefully as possible, all things considered. The intent had been to give her the lavish master bedroom and en suite located on the second floor. He figured that if she had to be stuck with him, she could at least be comfortable and want for little.

Instead, she’d taken one look at it and retreated to the small drawing room on the first floor, setting up shop without a word. He suspected the choice had something to do with the fact it was closest to the front door. It was almost surprising she hadn’t claimed the basement for herself, if for nothing else than to put even more space between them. 

She hadn’t even bothered transfiguring the sofa into a bed. He knew, because he’d looked in on her after hearing crying in the middle of the night as he was getting something to drink, only to find her in the midst of troubled dreams. Unable to leave her in that state but unwilling to invade her space further, he’d given a gentle swish of his wand and she’d settled right down into sleep. Since then he’d heard nothing else and suspected it to be the singular time she’d forgotten to cast silencing charms.

He’d tried leaving her notes, invitations to brunch or dinner that went unanswered and unmet. Letters were sent to her office in attempts to open lines of communication. Nothing was ever sent back unopened, but there were no replies either. A few times he’d even waited for her to arrive home and attempted to engage her. Civility, cajoling, teasing, even an attempt to provoke her anger had all resulted in terse replies and the door shut in his face, the lock clicking into place afterwards.

Outside of overseeing a variety of businesses in Diagon, Nocturn, and Hogsmeade his time had been devoted to scheming and planning. Refusal to give up coupled with his resourcefulness had been what saved his family during Sixth Year. The bleak prospects of his future if he were to give up were equally unacceptable now, and so he called on those traits again.

Towards the end of November, when the avenue of options was drastically narrowing, he turned to a resource that was as dicey as it was unpalatable: Harry Potter. 

The wizard had replied to his request with a note containing only a date, time, and place. Draco had been sure to get to the pub early to request a private room.

It was a short meeting, with Potter telling him in no uncertain terms how displeased he was with the entire arrangement, yet recognizing there wasn’t anything he, nor anyone else, could do about it. He was tired of seeing Hermione so miserable as she tried to fight off the inevitable. Even if the law were to be overturned, marriages were irreversible, due to the nature of the magic used in the ceremonies. Harry would do what he could to help Draco for Hermione’s sake.

Draco questioned Harry on things Hermione liked or might be open to receiving from him as gifts. His heart sank when the other man had shut down that train of thought. _“You have endless money, Malfoy. You could buy her everything on her wish list and it would get you nowhere because of how little effort making a purchase would be for you.”_

Draco’s frustration broke, and he demanded what he should do because there was no way he wasn’t going to give his new wife at least one Christmas gift. Harry must have detected how much it meant to Draco for it to _matter_ to her, because he imparted a little something about Hermione that perhaps could help. When the meeting was over, for the second time in his life, Draco sincerely thanked Harry Potter before they parted ways.

From there it’d been a simple matter of cashing in on a couple of heavy favors with Theo. It’d taken two weeks after sending his entire team of aquisitioners on a quest to antique shops across France before they finally found their objective in Argelès-sur-Mer, near the Spanish border. 

Theo delivered it with some suggestions of perhaps a kit of rare potion ingredients or advanced charm books from other Wizarding communities that’d be wise to get as a backup plan. When they unpacked it in the basement and looked it over, Draco felt as if he’d taken two steps forward and five back due to the rough state it was in. Theo had taken the liberty to include schematics, complete with part names, much to Draco’s relief. Harry’s parting words came back to him, and he peeked underneath at the bottom, spotting the initials and sighing in relief.

It was tempting to cast several quick _Reparos_ and be mostly done with it, so much so that he’d begun twirling his wand along his fingers, his magic humming just below the surface, ready to be called forth. In the end, he felt it important to repair it by hand as much as he could. Luckily, ordering parts in an expedited fashion was little problem. And so he’d spent his evenings and the entirety of the last several days racing against the clock and laboring to get the antique Muggle technology’s delicate pieces reassembled.

Having mostly conquered the major issue, he sent off a request for a simple Christmas dinner together to Hermione, ensuring it’d be the only thing he’d ask of her for the holiday season. His owl returned two hours later with a note of acceptance. After making quick arrangements for dinner to be delivered the next evening, he resumed his task.

It’d taken longer than anticipated, especially the painting portion, but with a drying charm and the addition of a couple of other things, he’d finished. Noting the time, he levitated the box up the stairs and into the sitting room. The dark gold paper and burgundy satin ribbon gleamed in the firelight from its place on the coffee table as he took one final look at it before retreating to his quarters to get ready.

An hour later, right on time, the front door opened and Hermione stepped through in her usual charcoal winter cloak. Draco watched through the mirror over the fireplace as she took a deep breath and slowly let it out before peeling it off to reveal a demure, calf-length black dress with matching peep toe heels. 

Her hands were clasped in front of her, fingers gripping one another. It was the only sign he can see to betray her nervousness as she advanced through the foyer and stepped into the sitting room. He shares the feeling but has long mastered hiding it.

He softened his features before standing. “Hermione.”

“Draco.” 

The air felt thick until he moved over to an antique cart and poured them each a glass of wine. Their fingers brushed when he handed off the glass, and a tingle passes through him, much like when they clasped each other's wrists for the binding portion of the wedding ceremony. She took a long sip before slowing down and relaxing a fraction. It was then she noticed the gift.

“Oh! You didn’t have to...” She trailed off. Her eyes were wide, as if she didn’t expect anything. Seeing as they hadn't had the best year together, he wasn't so surprised at the reaction.

“I wanted to. I know this year has been hard on you, and I wanted to at least get something to make it a tiny bit better if at all possible.” He caught her hand in his and led her to the sofa, where they both sat.

Her eyes ran over the box, landing on the elaborate bow. 

He gently took the wine glass from her hands and nudged her knee with his own. “Go on, open it.”

She glanced at him before scooting to the edge and gently pulling the tails until it was a pile of satin on each side of the box. It didn’t surprise him that she was slow at opening the gift, taking time to relish the experience as she gently pried the paper apart, barely tearing it. When she reached the wooden box itself, Draco sat both glasses down and lifted it slowly off the base to reveal the gift.

She sucked in a gasp, and her hands flew to her mouth. Disbelief was written across her face as she stared at the antique French gramophone. The teal horn and polished wood casing gleamed in the flickering light, as if brand new rather than ninety-five years old.

The box evaporated from his hands, dissolving back into the magic he created it with. Just in time too, because as soon as it was gone a mass of soft, bushy hair was tucked under his chin, her face tucked against his chest as slim, yet strong arms circled around his middle and squeezed. He paused for a moment, marveling at her reaction, before pulling her firmly against him.

“How did you know?” The words drifted up from where they’d been mumbled into his waistcoat.

“I wanted to get you something special, something meaningful for our first Christmas. I know you’re unhappy, and _fuck_ , Granger, I’m so sorry about that.” His hand drifted up and down up her back. She’d testified for him at his trial and then that fucking Marriage Law had come to pass and she’d been forced to shackle herself to him for life. No good deed went unpunished it seemed.

Her arms squeezed him tighter, small hands pressing flat against his back. She trembled once before taking a deep, slow breath.

“I’m surprised you asked Harry about it.”

Draco blinked. “How’d you know about that?”

She shook again, this time with a chuckle. “Because he’s the only one I ever told about my great grandmother’s gramophone. He told you about her, didn’t he?”

“No, just that it was greatly important to you. I had it tracked down, then repaired it myself.”

She peeked up at him. “Really?”

“Yes, by hand. With almost no magic. I simply applied a tracking spell, should it ever go missing, as well as a charm to prevent it from breaking. Time will not cause wear upon it.” He stared down into her eyes. Hope unfurled its tendrils behind his breastbone and began to grow.

“My great grandmother was from France and had an arranged marriage to an Englishman. They didn’t know one another, and as a wedding gift my great grandfather bought her a gramophone, just like this one—”

“No, not just like it. That one was hers.”

For a few moments, she said nothing. “How do you know?”

“Potter also told me about the initials that’d be on the bottom if it was indeed hers.”

Her warmth disappeared as she darted to the coffee table and dropped to her knees, carefully picking it up on one side and peeking beneath. A breath whooshed out of her as she set it back down.

With a wave of her wand, she summoned a record and put it on. A touch of her wand to the handle set the vinyl in motion, and she gently dropped the needle. As the first gentle strains of music filled the sitting room, she rose and returned to him, taking one of his hands in her own.

Realizing her intent, Draco slipped one hand around her waist to rest at the small of her back and pulled her close before they began to slowly dance together.

“This is how my great grandparents got to know one another, in the evenings after dinner. How they learned to work as a unit.”

He studied her intently as she watched him back while moving around the room in slow circles. “We can do that too, if you’d like.” His voice was a near whisper.

She must have heard him because she nodded, a tiny smile playing on her lips as she stepped closer.

They circled the room two more times before she spoke up. “I, erm... I have something for you too. You won’t get the official papers until tomorrow, but I was able to get your international travel ban lifted.”

Draco drifted to a stop, his mouth falling open. “You… How??”

The corner of her mouth pulled up into a wicked little smirk. “I had a few favors to cash in on. I hear there’s a lovely little cafe in Paris on the Champs-Élysées that has the most delightful brunch.”

He blinked tears away. That’s where his parents lived now. He’d get to see them for the first time in five years since they’d been exiled. “I don’t know how to thank you, Hermione.”

“It makes me glad to right that wrong. A son shouldn’t be separated from his parents needlessly. You’ve more than paid your penance.” They slowed to a stop, standing close. “I can only hope you’ll forgive me for my behavior the past half year. I’ve been an exceptionally bad sport about this marriage when it comes to you, even though I know you had nothing to do with the whole thing except complying. You’ve tried to do right by me, and all I’ve done is shove everything back in your face.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. You were trying to survive a life altering situation that you were forced into.” He stepped back and extended a hand. “All I can ask is that we go forward from here, together.”

She stared at his hand for but a moment before slipping her own into it, closing her fingers tightly around his.

“I would like that. Happy Christmas, Draco.”

“Happy Christmas, Hermione.”


End file.
